


Work In Progress

by franglemand



Category: Dance Academy
Genre: Gen, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franglemand/pseuds/franglemand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-series. Tara used to know exactly what the plan was for her life; finish the Academy, get into the company, become a soloist at as young an age as possible, then become a ballerina and dance all the classical roles all around the world. Then she broke her back for the second time and suddenly everything was up in the air. Now she's dancing again but can she get back to where she was before or will she need to adapt her plan to her changed circumstances?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work In Progress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weatherscenes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatherscenes/gifts).



_When I was younger I used to think my life was like a story; girl from a small town has a big dream, the odds are against her but somehow she’ll win through in the end. Cinderella starts off in rags but in the end she marries her prince. Clara helps the Nutcracker win his battle and she gets taken to the Land of Sweets to be crowned as Queen. Veronica Weston fought to be allowed to dance, Drina Adams thought she’d never convince her grandmother to support her but in the end they get to be ballerinas_ and _marry their childhood sweethearts. I always thought if I could just persevere I would get there in the end and the dream would make it all worthwhile. These days though I feel more like Icarus, an object lesson in what happens when you fly too close to the sun. And the truth is? I’m not sure what will happen if I fall again._

“What are you doing here?”

Tara didn’t look up from where she was diligently practising her cursive script on a piece of scrap paper, coloured pens and pieces of card laid out around her. “Helping Heather with the table settings for the first year formal she’s organising. There!” She finished with a flourish and tilted her head to one side to get a better look at it. “How does that look? I think I’m about ready to write the names on the cards now!”

Abigail frowned at her. “Why on earth are you asking me?” She shrugged and shook her head. “It looks like a beetle dragged a leaf across a piece of paper. I can only assume that’s what you were aiming for. If you weren’t, I’d suggest you just use a computer and stop wasting your time. At least now I know why it looks like a florist threw up in here.”

“I can’t use a computer! It’s their formal, it’s meant to be _romantic_. There’s no romance in typing names out on a computer and changing the font.”

“I have no idea why I’m arguing with you about this. That’s not what I was asking you anyway. Why are you _here_ , Tara, still at the Academy, still taking class, still wasting your time with stupid “teenage rituals”? There was no guarantee you’d make it into the company the first time around; you can’t seriously think you’re able to compete with the current third years now, let alone perform alongside the company dancers? After all this time, I still don’t understand you. You’re not even spending all your time getting back up to the standard you were before! Oh wait, you can’t, can you? Because of your back. So I say again, what are you doing here?”

Tara carefully placed the lid back on her pen and set it down beside her. “I know I’m not all the way there yet but Doctor Wicks says that my back is still recovering. I’ve still got time.”

“Time to do what? Carry on Kat’s old role as the third year whipping boy? You can’t possibly like being in with those girls and they _certainly_ don’t like you. You could barely cope when one person in our class didn’t like you, I can’t see you enjoying having the entire class despise you.”

“I’m managing just fine, _thank_ you Abigail.” Tara said, her tone becoming short. “And you? Are you enjoying being in the back row of the _corps_ , occasionally being allowed to audition for a solo but never actually getting one?”

“Oh, you’re so sweet for asking!” Abigail’s smile could have etched through metal. “I’m managing just _fine,_ thank you so much!”

Tara shook her head and started to gather her things. “You keep telling yourself that. We both know you’ve stalled and you’re not getting the attention you’d hoped for, and we both know you’ll never be satisfied only dancing in the _corps_. I don’t understand why you won’t at least _speak_ to Wes-“

“Not all of us delude ourselves that we can give equal amounts of attention to ballet and to our love-lives without hurting our dancing. Wes and I are perfectly capable of being ordinary work colleagues while both of us focus on our careers.”

“Shutting everyone out doesn’t help-“

“I’m not interested in wasting my time if you don’t want my help,” Abigail snapped. “Make sure you tidy this up before you go; at least I can save other dancers from being distracted by this stupidity.”

“Hey!”

Abigail, lips pressed tightly together, left the room before Tara could say another word. Sighing, Tara spread her papers out on the table, picked up her pen and continued where she left off, trying to persuade herself that Abigail’s words hadn’t got to her at all.

* * *

“You’re good at that, you know.”

Tara laughed breathlessly, accepting the water bottle Christian passed to her with a grateful smile. “What, children’s skipping games? I used to spend hours doing it back on the farm when I was little. We used to make up all sorts of chants and just wait for break time at school so we could show each other the new patterns we’d made up!”

Christian smiled but shook his head. “Not what I meant. Talking to the children, getting them to join in, understanding their games and all of that. You’re good at it. It’s really helpful you being here; I know a lot of the girls appreciate it.”

“Thanks! I’m glad, though I think you’re overestimating what I actually do! You’re such a good teacher, honestly. The kids are lucky to have you.”

“Alright Training Bra, enough of the gushing, you’ll make me blush.”

Tara smacked him lightly on the arm. “You need to stop calling me that. What will the kids think if they hear you?”

“They think it’s hilarious.”

“Christian! You told them? How _could_ you!”

Christian smirked at her. “Come on, it was pretty funny you have to admit. And it was years ago, anyway.”

Tara frowned at him. “It was not funny! I was _humiliated_! I can’t believe you told them,” she subsided with a grumble, crossing her arms and looking away. “No wonder all the boys were giggling every time I looked their way last week. They were all probably picturing what my bra looked like.”

“You say that as though 11 year old boys wouldn’t think to do that anyway,” he said dryly.

Tara drew in a shocked breath, then let it go with a sigh. “Fine, I give up. I will be known as Training Bra forever more. When I’m old and grey and finally leaving this school, people will still know me as the girl who went into the boys’ changing room on the first day and got caught half dressed.”

Christian snorted. “Not dramatic at all,” he said under his breath, then poked her lightly in the side. “When you’re old and grey you’re still going to be at this school? Planning on dancing Swan Lake ‘til you’re 90, are you?”

Tara slumped back against the wall. “More like I’ll still be a third year student when I’m 90. I’ll keep getting just to the point of becoming a real dancer, and then something will happen and I’ll be sent back to the beginning of third year again, trying to persuade everyone that _this_ time it will be different, _this_ time I’ll definitely make it into the company.”

“Tara-“

“I know, I know. I’m being dramatic and fatalistic and I should be grateful that I can dance at all. And I am grateful, I really am, I just... I feel like I’m stuck here when all the rest of you are moving on.”

Both of them were quiet for a few moments. Christian shifted his position slightly, leaning back on the wall next to her and nudging her shoulder with his. “You can make it, you know. Your recovery has been amazing. And I’ve seen the third years dance; not one of them can do what you did at the _Prix de Fontein_. They’re stronger technically as a group than we were but not one of them is as good as you at emotion or story-telling; they’ll be perfect for a _corps_ job but none of them could go anywhere near the Red Shoes or get into the company on a solo like Persephone.”

Tara sighed. “Maybe. What if I don’t, though? What if my back doesn’t recover all the way? Or if I hurt myself again? As it is I won’t be fit enough for the third year tour and I doubt I’ll get into the company at the end of the year, even if I’m able to audition. And then what, another year of this? Another year of wait and see if my back is ever going to be strong enough to dance professionally?”

“Tara, what do you want?” Christian asked quietly. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. I don’t know what will happen with your back but Doctor Wicks would have told you by now if it was hopeless. Do you still want to be a dancer?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a dancer!”

“I know, Tara. I know you have. But you know I’m the last person who would judge you if you decided the risks weren’t worth it anymore.”

Tara took a slightly shaky breath before repeating more quietly; “I’ve always wanted to be a ballet dancer. I can’t imagine wanting to be anything else.”

“Ok, ok.” Christian hesitated a moment, then seemed to think better of whatever he’d been going to say. “I should really sort out the studio before the next class arrives.”

“Oh, oh yes, of course! Sorry!” Tara sat up hastily, collecting her bag from where she’d dropped it on the nearest chair. “I should be getting back as well. I told Jennifer I’d help her with her pilates exercises this evening.”

“It’s fine; don’t apologise. It was good seeing you. Are you free to help out again tomorrow by any chance? Jasmine’s worried about preparing for her audition next month and I know she’d appreciate any advice you could give her about hair, shoes, leotard and all that.”

“I’ll do my best to be here, as long as Miss Raine doesn’t keep me back too long after class,” Tara promised.

“Great. Oh, and Tara?” Tara paused and turned from where she’d been about to walk out the door. “I wasn’t kidding before. You’re good at looking out for people and helping them; not just the kids here but the first and second years in the boarding house as well. I know I haven’t always appreciated your help but a lot of them really do. Just... something to think about. Whatever happens with your dancing, you were never _only_ a ballet dancer. You’re good at other things as well.”

Tara smiled to herself as she walked back to her room.

* * *

 

The problem with repertoire class these days was that Tara wasn’t always allowed to dance in it. It was only a few weeks ago that she’d been given permission to attend at all, instead of spending time on her own at the bar, strengthening her muscles and focussing on her technique. It was almost like being back in first year again, except at least this time she knew for certain that Miss Raine was holding her back for a reason and that she would be allowed to dance again eventually. Even so, Abigail hadn’t been wrong about the antipathy or outright animosity many of the third years displayed towards Tara, or about the ways in which that lack of support from her classmates wore her down. Truth be told if it hadn’t been for Abigail and Christian (and to a lesser extent Oliver) being so close by and for Kat, who had made good on her promise to be available on Skype as often as she could, Tara wasn’t sure she’d have been able to cope some weeks, when her lack of progress weighed upon her spirits and the unkind words and looks of her classmates rubbed harshly against already fraying nerves.

Miss Raine was running late this morning; not that it made a difference to the rigid discipline of the third year girls. Tara took her by now customary spot at the back of the _barre_ and slowly started to run through her own slow stretches. If Miss Raine wasn’t there Lulu would lead the warm-up for the whole class, and Tara had learnt early on that deviations from Lulu’s pattern were not to be tolerated; putting herself at the back of the room at least meant that the sighs and comments directed at her were kept to a minimum. These days she usually made sure that she had warmed up long before class started in any case, which allowed her more time before the serious dancing started to stretch out her muscles and work out if it was a good back day or a bad back day, when she would have to take things a little more easily.

Today seemed to be a good day, which Tara was relived to find happening more and more often lately. Easing herself into a back band, arm raised in fifth, Tara found herself accidentally tapping the girl behind her. “Ooh, sorry!” she exclaimed, shuffling a little further along the barre out of the way of her classmate.”

“Really, Tara! Do you have to disturb every class we take with your insistence on doing things your own way?” Lulu’s clarion tones rang out from the front of the room and Tara stifled a sigh.

“Sorry Lulu, it was an accident I swear! Please just carry on and ignore me.”

“If _only_ we could!”

Tara gritted her teeth and forced herself not to respond, knowing that nothing she said would make any difference to the younger girl. _Port de bras_ out to second, down to touch the floor, slowly roll up through the back and finish with arm in fifth above-

“Tara!”

“Ok, no, she bumped into me that time!” Tara said, frustrated. “I was barely even moving!”

“But if you’d been doing the same thing as everyone else, it wouldn’t have happened, would it? Because then you’d be moving in the same direction as everyone else.”

“This is ridiculous!”

Lulu smiled. “I completely agree! This _is_ ridiculous. If you’re going to join our class, you need to understand how we do things, not that you should be here in the first place-“

“Stop it!”

“- because you should either already be in the company or have accepted that you’re just not dedicated enough for ballet-“

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“- and either way I can’t believe that after all this time, you people are _still_ taking up teaching time and attention that should be directed at us!”

At this Tara gave up all pretence at warming up and walked to the centre of the room, where Lulu was already standing, arms on her hips. Tara noted with satisfaction that she towered over the younger girl, even if she couldn’t hope to match her composure.

“You know what? I’m sick of this. You _know_ why I’m here and your jealousy is not my problem.”

“I-“

“ _No!_ I’m talking. You belittle me, you complain I’m taking away your time, you say I’m not dedicated yet _I’m_ the one who’s working on getting better and _you’re_ the one who’s only interested in pushing me to give up so you can have your nice, orderly class back where everyone does what you say and no one dares put so much as a toe out of line. You know what though? You’re so intent on making everything neat and tidy and perfect that you don’t even see what you’re doing to your dancing. Oh sure, you can’t dance the classical roles without perfect technique but real ballet isn’t about perfection. No Lulu, it isn’t! It’s about pushing _beyond_ perfection. We admire the 32 fouettés in _Swan Lake_ but that’s not why we watch the ballet. The Sugar Plum Fairy’s solo needs technical precision but that’s not what most of our audience is watching for. They’re watching for _magic_! They’re watching _Giselle_ for the happiness and for the despair. They’re watching _Romeo and Juliet_ for the love and for the desperation. They watch for our longing, for our _passion_ , for our physical expression of all those emotions that everyone feels but can’t express. What are you going to express, Lulu? Determination? Smug satisfaction? Will you dance Swanhilda and confuse everyone when you switch in and out of being a doll because no-one can tell the difference? What’s the point in dancing if you never get to _fly_?”

Flushed and almost panting from her sudden outburst, Tara looked around the class to find everyone looking at her in apparently stunned silence. Embarrassment started to overtake her, though it wasn’t quite able to quell her quiet satisfaction at having _finally_ given Lulu a piece of her mind. Walking back to the _barre_ , she didn’t notice Abigail watching her through the window, a thoughtful look on her face.

Miss Raine arrived a minute or so later, apologising for her lateness. “I hope you’re warm girls because we don’t have time to wait for anyone who decided to spend their time chatting instead of dancing while waiting for my meeting to end,” she warned. “Now, who wants to go first? Tara? Are you sure?” For Tara’s hand had shot up in the air almost before Miss Raine had finished her question.

“Yes, Miss Raine. I’d like to dance the Ugly Duckling solo, if that’s ok with you. The one where she first realises she’s become a swan.”

“Tara,” Miss Raine said quietly. “That’s a first year solo. It’s not nearly demanding enough for anything that you will need to do this year.”

“I know, Miss Raine. I just... I want to work on really consolidating all my repertoire work this term so that I know it’s solid. And I’d like to start at the beginning, really concentrating on story-telling as well as technique. I think the Ugly Duckling is a good solo for that, just for today.”

Miss Raine regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “Very well, since you seem to have made up your mind! Carry on, then.”

Tara walked to the middle of the floor, tucked one leg behind the other and moved her arms to the sides to begin. She took a breath as the music started and used it to open her arms just a little bit wider and then sweep them across her body, raising one hand to just underneath her chin. As she did so, she started to feel herself getting lost in the magic of the dance and she forgot everything else in the room. It had happened so often before but this was the feeling that Tara craved; that sense that everything was moving perfectly together to the beat of her heart, like time and gravity were somehow suspended for the duration of the routine.

She couldn’t have known it but in the building opposite where the company was rehearsing, Abigail was losing herself in her own version of the same thing. (“I’m sorry. I freaked out when it seemed like we were getting serious because I didn’t want anything to distract from my dancing. I thought it would be easier for us just to be colleagues. I was wrong.” “... Can you say that again, please?” “Wes, you know perfectly well what I just said. I’m not repeating it.” “I love you. Am I allowed to say that now?” “Yes. Yes, you are. I love you too. I have to dance now though. They’re waiting for me.”)

* * *

 

“Ha! I’d love to have seen Lulu’s face when you said that! What happened after you danced? Did she cry?”

“No, of course not. I doubt she knows how. I don’t think she liked Miss Raine praising me though!”

“Of course she wouldn’t, but she’s just going to have to get used to the fact that my best friend is _easily_ the best dancer in third year even when she’s recovering from a broken back!”

“Kat.”

“What, it’s true! They should be bowing down before your greatness! Ooh, did I tell you about the waiter who bowed to me at that restaurant the other night? Well, either that or he really wanted to look at something on the floor, which is probably more likely, but I thought maybe he just had really good manners?”

Tara giggled. “You did tell me. How are you though, generally? Is L.A. falling at your feet on a regular basis yet?”

“Sadly no. Did you know it’s possible to hear “No” three times before breakfast when you’re in L.A? Seriously! Admittedly I didn’t end up eating breakfast until about 10.30 because my alarm didn’t go off so I had to run to the first audition, practically half dressed, and I swear I didn’t even properly wake up until I was at audition three, which was for some sort of toothpaste commercial and apparently everyone was supposed to bring their own tube of toothpaste! But how was I supposed to know that? Anyway, it went badly but I figure if I go to enough auditions, I’m bound to wear people down eventually with my boundless enthusiasm!”

“You will, I know you will. You’re amazing. Your film did so well; it’s bound to get attention in the States as well.” Tara hesitated a moment. “Did I tell you that I'm hardly doing any academic work this year, because I finished everything compulsory last year so the school said I could just focus on my back?”

“You did, and I’m horribly jealous that you get to do third year again but without any of the boring English and maths stuff.”

“Right,” she paused again. “I’m thinking of asking if I can do some sort of counselling course, or seeing if there’s something about pastoral care?”

It was Kat’s turn to be silent. “I don’t know what to say! Is our little T growing up and changing her dreams on us now?”

“No! Not, not really. I don’t think so. I just think I’d like to look at other options. In case my back isn’t strong enough for me to dance professionally. I’m not done yet, I still want to try but... I was thinking the other day about how much easier it might have been if there’d been someone here who wasn’t a teacher or a doctor, who could just talk to us like we were teenagers who weren’t crazy for wanting friends and fun as well as dancing! And I’ve been helping out a bit with the younger kids; you know the ones Christian is teaching? I’ve been helping the first and second years a bit as well. I like feeling useful. It’s not the same as dancing. It might be interesting though, I don’t know yet. And I wonder if things might have been different for us. Easier, I mean. If there had been someone in the boarding house who we could talk to about just ordinary stuff. Someone to help organise mixers at the beginning of the year for people to get to know one another and a formal at some point so that people wouldn’t have to miss out on one night of fun just because they want to be ballet dancers. Someone to go to when... when stuff was hard, you know? When an adult might have been helpful but the only ones we had near were teachers and doctors. I don’t know. It’s just an idea.”

“Well! By the time I get back to the Academy next I can see you and Christian will have prepared all these initiatives and programmes so that I’ll hardly recognise the place! You’ll have to show me around like I’m a poor lost new girl on her first day.”

“Kat, no! It’s just-“

“Oh yes, just a small plan that you’ll turn into a big plan and have a huge showdown with Miss Raine-“

“We will not!”

“Please, I’m living vicariously through you here! You have to give me all of the gossip...”  

_So maybe I don’t know exactly what the ending of my story will be, but maybe that’s ok. I have friends, I have goals and I have lots to keep myself busy. One day I’ll achieve one of these big dreams of mine but for now I think it’s ok for me to be a work in progress._


End file.
